In tracing how he came to be a Cubs fan, my father in law tells the story of his grandfather walking the few blocks from their home on the North Side to Wrigley with his then 8-year old dad to the 1932 World Series. They were far too poor to be able to afford a ticket but they would pick up the broadcast on a nearby radio and soak in the energy around the Friendly Confines as more well-to-do fans streamed in to watch Lou Gehrig, Babe Ruth, Rogers Hornsby and others.
That 8-year old would become a naval aviator during the Second World War, earn his law degree not far from Wrigley at The University of Chicago and ultimately settle in Long Beach, home base during his time in the military. He would hand his love of the Cubs down to his five children and 11 grandchildren. We’re working on his five great-grandchildren.
My father in law too went to The University of Chicago for law school. He would sit in the Wrigley bleachers during his time there, keep score and drink beer as a break from his studies. His memory of games can be scary. He once told me he saw Willie Mays hit two doubles and a home run in a 10-inning game that the Mets won 2-1. I told him I thought he was full of shit. He wasn’t.
My father in law met my mother in law while studying in Chicago. Some of their courtship unfolded in the Wrigley bleachers. She grew up just outside Chicago in the west suburbs and happens herself to like the Cubs. After they were married, they too ultimately settled in Long Beach. They built careers, and raised my sister-in-law and wife to be Cubs fans.
Dodger Stadium, Jack Murphy, Candlestick, Wrigley…my wife saw the Cubs at all of them. My father in law was there with his dad for Game 5 of the 1984 NLCS, and again with his dad, all four of his siblings and his two children in San Francisco for the 1989 NLCS. It was the first time the entire family had gathered since 1983. His dad vowed to take everyone to the World Series if they ever made it.
My father in law’s dad passed in March of 2015. He’s the prototype for the sort of fan Joe Buck is going to tell you a lot about during this World Series: he adored the Cubs, lived 91 years and never saw them win it. He’s on all of our minds, but most especially my wife and her (original) nuclear family.
Thanks to a senior baseball executive now with the Cubs who is very close to us, my father in law has had four tickets to every Wrigley playoff game so far. Before the first pitch of the NLCS, with his oldest daughter the star physician in San Diego by his side, he wept. His daughter the accomplished attorney, my wife, accompanied him for the Kershaw gem in Game 2 of the NLCS. I was there too. We’ll never forget it.
My father in law at times seems to route his life’s story like Wrigley is his northstar. He’s been there for four postseason games and counting this October (Dodger Stadium for another three) – accompanied by siblings, nephews, daughters and daughters’ husbands – in that same building where his Dad was 84 years ago, far too poor to conceive of walking through the gates.
I am a Red Sox fan and can remember the waves of emotion leading up to Edgar Renteria’s bouncer back to Keith Foulke. I know all this stuff begins to grate for other fans; these stories are out there for Indians fans, Astros fans and Mariners fans too. No team is any more special than another. But it’s fun to be right back in 2003 and 2004 vicariously through my inlaws, who have all meant so much to me.
Go Cubs Go.